


Daysleeper

by halfwit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angry Castiel, Boys In Love, Dean Has Low Self-Esteem, Dean's poor communication skills, Dean-Centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, I hope you like it, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel, Sad Dean Winchester, This turned out so different than I thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwit/pseuds/halfwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was ridiculous. Dean Winchester was 26 years old, he could certainly deal with his boyfriend going away for a few days to a conference. Except maybe he can't. Or wherein Dean's lack of communication leads to him getting hurt, and coming face to face with a very pissed off boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out to be soooooo much different than I originally planned. I thought this was going to be a little, fluffy drabble wherein I was able to keep playing with cheesy tropes (this one was sleeping together); but, then I started writing it and it became something completely different, but I hope you all think it is a good different. These boys had their own story to tell, I was just the vehicle making it happen.

Groaning in frustration, Dean Winchester flopped onto his back and stared sightlessly at the drywall of his ceiling. He really should get some spackle and make some repairs. Maybe he and Castiel could even redo the bedroom and they could get some new paintings and...Dean has to stop himself. Seriously, he is twenty-six years old, he should be able to sleep in his own bed by himself and not have insomnia plaguing him.

Rolling to his side, Dean looked at the small cat-shaped alarm clock that he bought for his boyfriend as a joke when they moved in together. The stupid clock was ugly as sin, but the brilliant smile that Castiel gave him was worth having to see the ridiculous thing, which was currently mocking him. It was 2:45 in the morning, which meant that Dean possibly got an hour of sleep, and from the way he was felt currently, that train had passed him by.

It was almost comical, one could say, if you weren’t Dean Winchester. Ripping the pillow from under him and smothering it over his face, the green-eyed Winchester muffled his frustration in the scratchy fluffiness.

For years, Dean had a reputation as a ladies man oozing self-confidence and charm, independent to a fault - he had to be, someone had to raise his younger brother after their parents died. Dean Winchester didn’t rely on anyone but himself. Then, he met Castiel Novak, and their lives were never the same.

Castiel had just moved to Lawrence, Kansas, to start a teaching position at the local elementary school when his car broke down right in front of Dean’s auto shop. The elder Winchester never believed in fate or kismet, and he would deny ever having fanciful notions, but their entire relationship was like a cheesy trope out of one of those dime store romance novels he saw his brother’s girlfriend reading all the time. Dean never was one to believe in love at first sight - lust, yes, but not love - but when he looked into the bewildered blue eyes of Castiel Novak, rumpled and so vulnerable - yeah, Dean might have fallen in love.

After getting Castiel’s rusting bucket of junk back in working order, the two men went out for drinks, and then met up the next night for a movie, and the next, and the next, and before they knew it they hadn’t wanted to be apart. That was three years ago. Although they could annoy each other with the best of them - you can’t spend that much time with one another and not get mildly aggravated - the years had been among the best of Dean’s life. Castiel had filled an emptiness that the green-eyed Winchester had never known existed before. The easy laughter and bond between the two men was something that Dean really had thought was the stuff of fairy tales; not that he would ever admit such fancies out loud, he had to preserve some semblance of pride. Years of putting Sam’s happiness and well-being above his own, had made Dean feel guilty at first to be in a new relationship, and he worried that he wasn’t good enough for Castiel.

The dark-haired Novak came from a large family with six siblings, and had been raised with money. Dean dropped out of high school and got his GED so he could start working full-time at seventeen to keep a roof over his and Sam’s head. When Dean and Castiel would mingle with the latter’s co-workers from the school, Dean often felt self-conscious. He never felt he was in the same league as his boyfriend, although Castiel hated to hear him speak so poorly of himself.

Despite these minor hiccups, the couple worked and were very much in love, and Dean would do whatever he could to give Castiel the life he thought the blue-eyed man deserved. So, when Castiel announced his school was sending him to a month-long course in Florida to get a special certification, Dean swallowed his own apprehensions and self-doubt and put on the hat of supportive boyfriend. It wasn’t until Castiel was on the plane and Dean returned to the now quiet home they shared that the Winchester realized it had been three years since he had been by himself. Castiel had fit into his life so perfectly and completely, that it was as though he always had been there.

Not only was Dean without his boyfriend, he was without his brother. Sam currently was studying law at Stanford University; and while the brothers talked several times a week, it wasn’t like they could grab a beer or hang out. Dean had friends, and he would take advantage of spending time with them when he could, but it wasn’t the same. He missed having a Cas-shaped pillow to curl around at night. Who would have guessed it, but Dean Winchester was a secret snuggler. He missed burying his nose into the soft, short hair at the base of Castiel’s neck. He missed how the smell of cinnamon and cloves clung to the older man, probably from all the fancy teas that Castiel drank. All these revelations hit Dean the moment he walked back into the house from taking his boyfriend to the airport. He was so screwed...and worried he was turning into a walking Nicholas Sparks novel.

For the rest of the day he had thrown himself into keeping busy. He cleaned the apartment, he cooked extra meals, he went for a run (the apocalypse was coming, he just knew it, when Dean Winchester voluntarily exercised). He was pretty good at keeping himself from missing his lover.

After dinner, the pair Skyped for a few minutes and got caught up on the first day. Castiel was thrilled to be at the training. He was so excited how he was going to be able to use this to help his students. Dean couldn’t help the burst of pride he felt at how dedicated his boyfriend was. Things were going well, until Castiel dropped one piece of information.

_“Everything has been so great,” Castiel gushed, huge smile on his face. “I’ve met so many interesting people. Do you know there is a school in Maine that teaches animal husbandry to their kids? I’ve met the teacher from there, he is an unusual and somewhat taciturn man named Cain; but, he is passionate about raising bees and has been working to show the high school kids how to increase the population.”_

_Dean smiled warmly at the other man, and was so happy to see Castiel as animated as he was. Dean could deal with the loneliness of the next few weeks to see that grin._

_“Oh,” Castiel was saying, barely taking a breath to pause in his exuberance, “I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you, you’ll never guess who is here. Chuck Shurley! Can you believe it?”_

_For years Dean had heard the expression of jealousy being a green-eyed monster, but it was nothing he ever thought of as a literal, tangible state of being, until this moment. Chuck Shurley was Castiel’s boyfriend before Dean, and was making a name for himself in the education community as an author. Though the two had separated, Castiel still spoke fondly of his time with Chuck. Knowing the pair would be at a conference together brought fears Dean tried to tamp down, roaring to the surface. Dean trusted Castiel; he didn’t think the older man would cheat on him. But, Dean also didn’t believe he was enough to keep Castiel long-term; and, he worried that spending a month with an established, successful, smart man might make Castiel reconsider their relationship._

_Plastering on a fake smile, Dean encouraged Castiel the best that he could, and tried to stop himself from worrying. He had to have more faith in Castiel than this._

_That was the first night Dean was alone, and the first night he was unable to sleep._

It had been two weeks since Castiel left and Dean’s current state of lying awake in bed at 2:45 a.m., and during that time, the young Winchester averaged two hours of sleep at a time.

Dean hated to admit it to himself, but he was hopelessly gone over his boyfriend. During their years together, they have rarely spent a night apart, and this? This distance, plus Dean’s doubts and lack of self-confidence? A sheer recipe for disaster. Plus, Dean craved the solid weight of his boyfriend pressed against him. The bed felt too big without Castiel’s presence. The sheets were too cold.

“Get a grip, Winchester,” Dean mumbled to himself. “You are a grown man, you can handle time without your boyfriend.”

Only, Dean knew that wasn’t the case. For so many years, the elder Winchester had been a care-giver, it was part of his nature. Even with Castiel, Dean tended to be overprotective and had an urge to take care of the older man; but, Dean also was just starting to let himself be cared for in return. Castiel knew how Dean liked his coffee, how to build him a blanket fort/nest on the couch when Dean was sick, and how to make the best replica of Mary Winchester’s tomato-rice soup whenever Dean was sad.

Closing his eyes, Dean tried every trick he could think of to get back to sleep. He tried counting sheep (yeah, who thought that was a good idea?). He even tried some of the breathing exercises he could remember from the few times he had gone to yoga classes with Castiel (what? He was okay with taking a couple hippie sessions, plus he liked the benefits of having a bendy boyfriend). Nope. Nothing was working.

Dejected, Dean got out of bed and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom. Flicking out an unsteady hand, he blinked as the even the soft wattage of the lights was glaring on his sleep deprived brain. Squinting, he took in the appearance in front of him. Jesus, he was a mess. He had heard about people talk about looking like death warmed over, but never really understood what that meant, until he saw himself. He obviously couldn’t go to work looking like this, everyone would know something was up. He looked like one of those “ghosts” those reality-show guys, _The Ghostfacers_ , were always trying to track down. Deep purple, almost black smudges appeared under his eyes, which didn’t look quite as vibrant as they normally did. His complexion was pale, causing his freckles to stand out like Cocoa Puffs on his face. This called for drastic measures.

Opening the glass medicine cabinet, Dean reached in and found a small, beige bottle. He occasionally did cosplay and LARPing with his best friend, Charlie, so he kept a few bottles of concealer in the bathroom. He thought it would be necessary in this case, just to try to hide the evidence of how little he was sleeping.

Taking his time, Dean dabbed and smeared the liquid onto his face, applying heavier amounts around his eyes. After approximately twenty minutes, Dean stepped back to admire his handiwork. If someone got too close to him, they probably would be able to see the faint streaks of makeup, but when he stepped back at a normal distance the young man didn’t think anyone would be the wiser, and it made him look almost human again.

Finished in the bathroom, Dean hurriedly got dressed and then went to the kitchen to make a pot of extra strong coffee, he figured he would need a mainline drip of caffeine to make it through the day, but figured it would all be worth it. He only had another two weeks to go until Castiel was back home. He was totally going to be able to do this. Putting one foot in front of the other, he left to face the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up from...wait a minute, when did he go to sleep? And why does the mattress feel like a reject from the Princess and the Pea? Does he really want to wake up to face this crap? Or, the chapter in which Dean comes face-to-face with his lack of self-care.

A persistent beeping noise was the first thing that filtered into Dean’s consciousness. The young man’s senses felt dulled, heavy, as though he had been submerged underwater for a considerable length of time - much like when he and Sam had gone scuba diving that one time. Trying to bring his senses back online, the Winchester didn’t want to open his eyes just yet. He was trying to take stock of the current situation, and why his tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth. Piecing the facts together, the first mystery was when did he fall asleep? He had no memory of that. Last thing he knew he was leaving his house to go to work. Sleeping was last on his list, not that he’d gotten a lot of that lately anyhow.

He struggled to remember what had happened, but his brain was slower to come online than the ancient laptop he refused to part with. Part of him knew he should open his eyes and begin his day, but a piece of the puzzle was missing. Another part of him rebelled against fully waking when it had taken so long to get any rest. But, the longer he lay, the more surreal the situation seemed, and he began to notice pain in his body that was not normal Dean slept wrong pain. He felt like he had been on the wrong end of a bar fight. His side ached, his head throbbed, and his eyes felt as though they were attached to lead weights, which added to why he didn’t want to open them. 

He was laying on a bed, but it didn’t feel like his bed at home. His bed was a memory foam mattress that he usually delighted in because it curved to fit him just perfectly. This mattress was thin and plastic-y. Plus there still was that damn beeping.

Vaguely he became aware of other noises, shoes squeaking on linoleum, hushed voices talking about something in agitation.

Tired of keeping himself in the dark, Dean struggled to pry his sleep-crusted eyes open and blinked as he stared at an unfamiliar ceiling.

“Dean!”

The man in question, turned his head and saw Charlie’s very concerned hazel eyes searching his face.

“Char?” Dean asked, wincing at the dryness of his throat. He sounded as though he had gargled a handful of glass.

“Here,” the redhead said, thrusting a cup of water toward him, before changing tacks, and placing a gentle hand under his head and helping guide the small cup to his cracked lips.

Greedily Dean guzzled the small cup of liquid. The cool water felt like heaven against the parched surfaces of his tongue and throat. All too soon the cup was empty.

“Sorry dude,” Charlie said, placing the cup on the bedside table, before he could utter a word of protest. “That’s all you’re allowed for now. I paged the doctors, so someone will be in to see you soon, hopefully.”

“What the hell, Char?” Dean asked, starting to freak out. What the hell happened that he ended up in a hospital? He hadn’t been sick, had he?

“If you weren’t bruised six ways to Sunday I’d be smacking you upside your head, Winchester,” Charlie said, playfulness gone from her tone. She was royally pissed.

“I didn’t do anything,” Dean protested, and would deny the whine in his voice until his dying breath.

“You didn’t do anything?” Charlie ranted, working herself up for a fight. “How about talk to us? You’re basically my brother, Dean, I would do anything for you. Don’t you think I had a right to know you were having a bad time?”

The bewildered look on Dean’s face caused Charlie to soften her words.

“You know you don’t have to do everything the hard way,” she said, taking one of his hands gently in her own.

“I don’t even know what the hell is going on right now,” Dean said, voice still raspy and weak from disuse. “Where am I? And why am I here? And please tell me you didn’t see my naked ass.”

The petite redhead chuckled, enjoying that although Dean probably had taken ten years off her life, he was still Dean and still had fire in him.

“You wish I had seen your naked ass,” Charlie snarked back. “What do you remember?”

Dean furrowed his brow and thought back, trying to think if there was something he was missing.

“Last thing I remember, I got up early because I couldn’t sleep, made some coffee, and…” Dean stopped. Why couldn’t he remember anything after coffee? He was drawing a blank. “I don’t know what happened after that,” he admitted in defeat.

Charlie ran a hand through Dean’s short honey-brown hair, trying to give comfort to him, as well as assure herself that he was here and he was okay.

“You passed out, dude,” Charlie said, eyes looking a little more watery than they had a few moments before. “From best we can tell, you went to leave the apartment and got as far as the first flight of stairs before you blacked out and fell down the stairs.”

Falling down the stairs at their apartment complex could definitely explain why he felt like he had been a hellhound’s chew toy.

“How did I pass out?” Dean asked.

“I think I can help with that,” a new masculine voice called from the doorway. “Nice to see you awake, Mr. Winchester, you gave your friend here quite a scare.”

Dean felt the blood rush to his face and cause him to blush. Damn it, not only was he pining after Castiel, apparently fainting dramatically, now he was blushing? He was two pages away from being in a romance novel.

“My name is Aaron Bass and I have been taking care of you since you were admitted to the emergency room,” the doctor said, walking fully into the room and pausing to write some readings from the machines that Dean was just realizing he was attached to.

“From the best we can tell from the 9-1-1 call that was placed at your apartment building, you must have lost your balance or blacked out right as you placed your foot out to go down the first step,” Dr. Bass explained kindly. “Once you lost consciousness, you already being off-balance and poised to step down caused your body to follow and because you weren’t awake, there was no way for you to try to stop the motion.

“We can’t tell exactly how long you were there, but one of your neighbors, a Ms. Mosely, was coming back from shopping and saw you laying at the bottom of the steps. She immediately called the paramedics who brought you in.

“When you came in you were severely dehydrated, and very nutrient deficient in terms of protein. From the best we can tell, it looks like your body was trying to shut down to preserve itself. We have seen this before in individuals who have severe exhaustion, bordering on acute sleep deprivation.”

“What’s the damage, doc?” Dean asked. He had been trying to take a mental inventory of his condition, but figured he’d just cut to the chase.

“Considering the number of stairs you hit, your injuries are fairly minor,” the brown-haired doctor explained. “I’m sure it doesn’t feel minor. You have some bruising on three of your ribs, as well as moderate concussion, and a host of cuts and bruises. Overall, you were very lucky.”

The green-eyed patient wanted to grumble that he didn’t feel very lucky, but thought that would be too bratty at this point. He knew full well he could have broken bones or snapped his neck.

Pulling a chair next to the bed, the doctor extracted a pen from his coat pocket, and looked expectantly at his patient. “Can I ask a few questions about your medical history, Mr. Winchester, now that you are awake? If you are more comfortable, I can ask your friend to step outside while we speak?”

Charlie looked like she was ready to hurl a dagger at the doctor for even suggesting she leave Dean’s side, for his part, the young Winchester just squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“No, I’m fine for Charlie to stay, and please call me Dean.”

“Have you been getting enough sleep lately?” Dr. Bass started. Might as well start with the big one off the bat.

Dean rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, a characteristic gesture he had whenever he was uncomfortable with something.

“Probably not,” Dean admitted, not looking up – the pattern on the plain white sheet of his bed was infinitely fascinating.

“Define probably not,” the doctor persisted.

“My boyfriend’s been gone for a couple of weeks, and I just haven’t gotten used to him not being around, so my sleep’s been off,” Dean admitted, no use hiding it now. “I have been getting about one or two hours of sleep a night, if that.”

Dr. Bass nodded his head, as though he were expecting Dean to say nothing less, and made a few notes on the chart in front of him.

“Have you been experiencing any other problems?” the doctor asked. “Problems eating, eating too much or too little, feeling dizzy, headaches, memory loss, problems with your emotions, feeling depressed, motor coordination?”

“Whoa, one question at a time, dude,” Dean joked half-heartedly. He thought through the list the doctor rattled off. “Yeah, I think I’ve had a lot of those recently, to be honest. I haven’t been very hungry, then the headaches started. I’ve definitely been down, but I just chalked that up to my Ca-, my boyfriend being gone. And, now that you mention it I have been more forgetful. I thought it was just me being out of sorts, but I kept losing keys for cars that I was working on, but the keys were in the ignition or on my desk every time.”

The doctor patted Dean on the back of the hand and nodded. “This sounds like classic signs of exhaustion. I’m going to keep you here overnight to run a few additional tests, and to keep an eye on your concussion to make sure there isn’t any more swelling in your brain, or any other problems that might be disguising themselves due to your lack of sleep. However, as long as everything checks out, you should be clear to go home some time tomorrow.”

Dean sighed gustily, he hated being confined to a hospital, but he knew with concussions it was best to be careful, and with Castiel gone it made sense for him to stay overnight. He just wasn’t happy about it.

“I’ll be in to check on you later,” Dr. Bass said, rising from his chair. “I’m going to put you on a mild sleep aid tonight. Your body needs to rest and recharge, take advantage of that while you can.”

“Thanks, doc,” Dean murmured. He wasn’t wild about the idea of taking medication to help him sleep; but, if it meant he could sleep and that would help him get out of the hospital, he would do it.

After the doctor left, it wasn’t long before a nurse came in to take Dean’s vitals and give him the medications that had been prescribed.

“You might as well get ready to leave, there’s not going to be much exciting going on except watching me sleep, and that’s just creepy,” Dean told Charlie, trying to make light of the whole situation.

“I’ll stay for a little while,” his pseudo-sister said, glaring at him briefly, but with fondness lurking under it all. “I want to make sure you don’t do something else stupid, like try to sign yourself out, since you clearly have no sense of self-preservation.”

Dean flipped her off, but was surprised with a yawn that was so gaping he thought it was going to finish the job and crack his jaw. He felt his eyelids growing heavier already.  _ Mild _ sleep aid his ass. The bed was a little awkward for Dean to situate himself into, it clearly was not designed for men over six-feet tall. Despite being somewhat uncomfortable, sleep was calling to him – a siren song that he hadn’t heard in so many nights, and now that he heard the first strain it was almost irresistible.

Just as he was on the cusp of dreamland, a question came unbidden to mind, and once it took root, he couldn’t shake it.

“Hey Char?” Dean asked, voice slurring slightly from fatigue and the medication.

“Yeah, Dean?” she replied, clearly startled, thinking her friend had already fell asleep.

“How did you know I was in the hospital?”

The young girl was quiet for a few moments, causing Dean to fight to hold off sleep, something about the silence made him uncomfortable, he had a bad feeling about this.

“When you were admitted to the emergency room, they found your insurance card and your emergency contact information,” Charlie said, keeping her eyes firmly on the ground and avoiding Dean’s green ones at all costs. “Your primary emergency contact is Cas.”

“Fuck!” Dean said, suddenly trying to fight the drugs for consciousness. This was bad.

“Apparently they were able to reach Cas as he was leaving for one of his conference sessions,” Charlie continued. “When they explained what had happened, he called me so that someone could be here with you when you woke up. I called Sam to let him know what was going on. He told me to pass on his most mega bitchface, and that he will be home this weekend to ream you a new one in person.”

Dean sunk back down into the flimsy mattress, wishing it were a black hole that could suck him out of existence. This was bad. Really bad. Dean was upset enough that he had worried Charlie, but to know Castiel had gotten the call while he was hundreds of miles away and couldn’t do anything, and that Sam had been told, too? Oh he was in for an ass reaming of epic proportions.

“I’m so fucked,” Dean whined.

“Sorry, handmaiden,” Charlie said, voice soft and sympathetic. She stood up to rearrange the pillow under Dean to make his neck more comfortable. “I love you, but you do kinda deserve it. Maybe next time, you know, you can just talk to your friends and family, the people who love you, and let us help you.”

“Nesstime Imma go with,” Dean slurred, finally losing his battle against the drugs in his system.

Waiting until she heard the soft, snuffling snores coming from her friend, Charlie shifted and checked her phone, almost paling when she saw the text notification awaiting her. Quickly she stood up, gathered her books and DS, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Love you,” she said. “But, I don’t think I want to be here when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who had read and commented so far. I had so much fun writing this story, although I found my own sarcasm coming through. I have never enjoyed writing about cheesy tropes more, and being able to outwardly ridicule said tropes that I love so much. I think my inner Dean Winchester was coming out to play. I do hope that you are enjoying this little tale so far. I know that Castiel has been off-stage so far, but don't worry, he will be in the next installment....although Dean might wish that he didn't show up.  
> Please let me know what you think. Love to you all <3!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean comes face to face with a highly pissed off man, who resembles an avenging angel. In other words...Cas is back.

There was a soft voice talking. That was the first thing Dean noticed as awareness washed over him. He really didn’t listen to what the voice was saying, just there were words being said in a familiar and loved voice and that he was feeling more rested than he had in days, even though he could feel the dull throb of pain in his ribs whenever he moved too quickly.

“Stupid and inconsiderate. We talked every night and could you be bothered to say that there was a problem, no of course not, because in your mind you didn’t want to worry me. Well newsflash that failed epically. So self-sacrificing. Wish I could get you to believe in yourself the way you believe in others. To see the good man that you are. You always say you’re the lucky one that you have me, but you refuse to see how, from my point of view that I am the lucky one. I wonder if one day you won’t realize you deserve the world and decide to find someone more worthy of the bright light that is your soul, and then I would be left in the dark and not be able to find someone to love again, because there will be no one for me, no one but you, and you tried to take that away from me, you assbutt.”

Dean was still trying to wake up fully, but the words the other person was speaking were suddenly filtering through loud and clear. That was Castiel, and he sounded pissed.

“Sonofabitch,” Dean swore mentally.

“Dean?!” Castiel asked, and Dean felt the dip on the hospital-cheap mattress to indicate his boyfriend was sitting right beside him. This was confirmed seconds later by the warm, soft hand grasping for his own and cradling it like fine porcelain.

Knowing the ruse was up and that he was going to have to face his executioner, Dean’s eyes fluttered fully open, and he immediately wanted to slam them shut.

Despite Castiel’s overheard mutterings, Dean was not met with the fiery gaze of an avenging angel, he was met with ocean-blue eyes swimming with unshed tears, whites of the eyes heavily streaked with red from too many tears, and blotchy cheeks from where those tears had spilled down. Dean again wished for his stupid mattress to swallow him and drop him into an alternate dimension where he hadn’t caused heartache to the love of his life.

“Heya Cas,” Dean said softly.

The darker-haired man’s mouth gaped for a moment, as he tried to find words. Dean had the image of one of those talking novelty fish with how his boyfriend opened and closed his mouth with no words or sounds audible. Before he had time to make a comment, Dean found himself engulfed in the biggest hug he had ever received. Castiel’s warm scent, cinnamon and cloves, filled Dean’s nasal passages and made him think  _ safe, warm, home, family _ . The Winchester didn’t even care that his boyfriend was holding on a little too tightly for bruised ribs, because despite the pain this was everything that Dean had been missing the last few weeks. Greedily, Dean inhaled his lover’s scent, and nuzzled his nose into the other man’s neck, enjoying the solid feel in his arms again. It was silly for him to think, but true nonetheless, with Castiel in his arms, he was home.

What felt like mere seconds later, Castiel pulled away from the embrace and stood up from the bed, back toward Dean, shoulders hunched over so Dean couldn’t see what was going through the other man’s eyes.

“Cas? Babe?” Dean asked, hesitant to move from the bed, as he didn’t want to cause problems, but he needed to know what changed. “Are you okay?”

Apparently that was the exact wrong thing to say because a millisecond later Castiel spun around on his heel and pinned Dean with the most ferocious glare he had ever seen from the other man. Now that right there was what Dean originally expected to see when he first met Castiel’s eyes: Fire, passion, anger, rage. In that dark look, Dean’s was speared to his bed, terrified of what was to come. His boyfriend was every inch the avenging angel of his namesake.

“Am I okay?” Castiel seethed, trying to keep his voice down, still seemingly aware they were in the hospital. “What do you think, Dean? Do you think I am okay?”

“Ye-, no, I don’t know,” Dean stammered. Sure over the course of their relationship the pair had fought, and Castiel had been angry with Dean before, but this was different. Something about Castiel’s appearance in this moment told Dean that the balance of their whole relationship could be at stake. “Way to be melodramatic, Winchester,” he mentally took a moment to chastise himself.

“You don’t know?!” Castiel raged, voice getting somewhat louder, and causing a fine sheen of sweat to appear on Dean’s forehead. “You don’t know? Let me enlighten you then since you don’t know.”

The young Winchester wouldn’t say he was afraid of his boyfriend in that moment, but he was apprehensive as to what this would do to their relationship.  _ “Please God, don’t have let me fucked this up, _ ” Dean begged silently, not daring to interrupt the shorter man, whose blue eyes were currently stormier than a Caribbean ocean.

“I  _ hated _ that we were separated, and I knew that you did, too,” Castiel began, tone laced with anger, pacing the hospital room with the grace and agitation of a predator stalking dinner. “I lived for our phone calls each night, but after the first couple, something seemed off. You would space out when I talked – not that I was exactly retelling Shakespeare or anything – but it hurt because usually you look at me and focus on me as though there is nothing more important in your world.”

“That’s because there isn’t,” Dean hazarded to throw in. He was rewarded by a glare. It is true that if looks could kill, Castiel would have been burying Dean at that moment. Knowing that his role was only to listen, Dean nodded briefly and waited for the other man to start talking again.

Appeased that Dean wasn’t going to defend himself more, Castiel picked up his ramblings.

“I kept asking you if something was wrong; but, you would just deflect and tell me everything was  _ fine _ . Stupid on my part. You would think after being together as long as we have that I would speak Dean Winchester better than that and know that if you say you are ‘fine’ you usually are anything but.

“As the days went on, I became more irritable. The bed was too empty, it was too lumpy, and I hated not being able to wake up in the morning to your messy hair and arm hanging over me. Sue me, we’re having a ‘chick flick’ moment, Winchester: If you didn’t want to have one then you should have taken better care of yourself and not have acted like the heroine of a gothic romance.”

Dean’s eyes were wide as saucers, in all their time together, this was the angriest that Castiel had ever been. Part of Dean wasn’t ashamed to admit that even though he knew this was a very serious conversation they needed to have that he was a little turned on at the moment. No one ever said little Dean had good timing. However, his boyfriend wasn’t done, he spun on his heel and started pacing back to the other side, lost in his own thoughts. Dean wanted so badly to get out of bed and wrap his arms around his lover, but he didn’t think that would go so well, so he sat and paid attention to everything Castiel was saying – both verbally and through the increasingly agitated hand gestures he was making.

“The people at the conference were nice enough, but after a few days, I just wanted to come home. I missed my bed, my books, my job, my boyfriend. Then when even our phone calls started to get shorter, I really felt at sea. I know you don’t think you are good enough for me, but I think that’s the biggest load of horseshit I’ve ever heard. You are a good man, Dean Winchester, you deserve to be loved, cherished.

“This was the longest we had been apart since we started dating and I wondered if maybe our phone calls were getting shorter because you finally realized that without me at your side twenty-four seven that you could do better.”

Dean huffed in disbelief and rolled his eyes at this statement, as if there would ever be anyone better for him than Castiel. Not only was the other man smoking hot, he was kind, generous, and loving to a fault, even if he didn’t have the best taste in cars, music, or movies all the time.

Ignoring Dean’s small outburst, Castiel finally decided to stop stomping around the room, reassuming his chair to Dean’s side, the blue-eyed man sat down, shoulders slumped slightly in weariness.

“I was on the verge of asking the conference chair if there was a way I could leave early, finish via a correspondence portion, but I kept saying there were only two weeks to go,” Castiel chuckled mirthlessly. “I didn’t quite know how I was going to survive those two weeks, but I’d survived the first two, surely it couldn’t get worse. Famous last words.

“I was just on my way to the morning breakfast when my cell phone rang,” something changed in Castiel’s tone at that moment, a change that stabbed Dean right through the heart and made him feel like the most selfish terrible boyfriend in the history of awful boyfriends.

There was something so small, an almost childlike terror that took over Castiel’s usually deep, whiskey laden timbre. Blindly, Dean reached out and grasped his lover’s hand, the Winchester didn’t know if this small contact would be welcomed, but they had both been denied the other for so long, he had to try to reestablish some connection between the two of them.

To Dean’s joy, Castiel didn’t push him away, he squeezed Dean’s hand tight, like the life line it was offered to be, and absently brushed a kiss against Dean’s knuckles, causing a flare of joy to spark in the green-eyed man lying on the bed.

“The number on my phone was not one I recognized, but I knew it to be the local area code from home, so I answered,” Castiel said, voice dropping, the fire was extinguished again, gone was the warrior angel, and what remained was grief-addled boyfriend. Dean preferred the warrior. Dean preferred Castiel to be yelling and cursing at him than to see this naked pain etched on the older man’s handsome face.

“When I answered, the woman asked me if I was Castiel Novak and if so did I know I was the emergency contact for a Dean Winchester,” Castiel continued thickly, swallowing harshly around the growing lump in his throat. “My heart stopped beating. I felt so cold, even in the Florida sun, and asked her what had happened. She explained that you had been found unconscious at the bottom of the stairwell in our apartment building and you had been taken to the emergency room at Lawrenceville General Hospital. At the time she said she didn’t have more information to provide me, but they wanted to inform me as your contact.”

Castiel stopped for a moment, shoulders visibly shuddered as he tried to stop the tears from flooding his face. That phone call would be fodder for nightmares for years to come, and even now, sitting with Dean and holding his hand, feeling him warm and safe, it was something that haunted his mind.

“Shh,” Dean said, forgetting about his role to stay quiet, and tugging at their joined hands, urging Castiel to move from the chair and climb into the too narrow bed. The frame was tiny for Dean’s 6’1” frame, and adding Castiel’s nearly six feet to the mix was almost a recipe for disaster, but Dean couldn’t stand to have any space between them. He needed them to be as close as possible, especially as he thought Castiel’s tale was going to be harder to tell from here.

Needing no further encouragement, Novak abandoned the flimsy, plastic chair and scrambled on to the bed. The two men took several moments to arrange themselves into some semblance of comfort, but after a few minutes they were pressed together, Castiel’s head laying on Dean’s chest where he could hear the strong, rhythmic beat of Dean’s heart, a gentle rhythm lulling him into a sense of safety and security.

Dean’s body, still heavy from the sleep medication, relaxed, content to have his boyfriend back where he belonged. Happy to just be there together, Dean ran his hands up and down Castiel’s spine slowly.

“I would like to say that I kept calm and was able to function as a rational human being after the call,” Castiel continued after a few moments, voice thicker, deeper, the edges of it slurring with sleep. “But, I promptly found a garbage can and was sick. It took several minutes before I was able to stop shaking and try to make plans.

“The hospital hadn’t told me much. They didn’t tell me if you were alive or dead or what your injuries were, just that you were taken in. As soon as I was able, I called Charlie and asked her to come to the emergency room and see what she could find out. I then went to the conference head and said I had a family emergency and I had to go home immediately. Then, I went to the airport and got on whatever flight I was able to find; although, I don’t know if they really wanted me on the plane. I think they thought I was an insane man, or perhaps a terrorist. But, I got here as soon as I could.

“Once Charlie got here and bullied everyone and their brother to tell her what was going on, and we knew that you were alive and the injuries were minor over all, I was able to relax somewhat, but not completely.

“I am so angry at you Dean Winchester. You are it for me, you are the love of my life. I don’t want anyone else, and I don’t want you going off to find anyone else either. As I was travelling here, I kept thinking I’m his emergency contact, but if something really happens to him, there is nothing I can do.”

Castiel paused, tears streaming anew down his face, and the sheer heartbreak in those clear blue eyes, brought tears to Dean’s own.

“I’m here, honeybee,” Dean said, pressing a gentle kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “I am so fucking sorry I was an idiot. So fucking sorry. I love you.”

“Prove it,” Castiel challenged, fire lighting his blue eyes again making them look otherworldly.

“How can I prove it, Cas?” Dean asked, wondering if his was just dense, or if the drugs and lack of sleep had addled his brain.

“Marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be super fluffy, the whole story was supposed to be short and cute and so gooey it would rot your teeth. These boys get minds of their own and just pull me along down the rabbit hole. I really think I am incapable of writing 100% fluff. I do hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think of Cas' appearance. Did he take it too easy on Dean? Too harsh? Only one chapter left - just a nice little epilogue to send our boys into the sunset.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean marvels at the turns in his life and we reach the end of our unconventional fairy tale.

Sunlight poured in through the window, pouring golden beams onto the nearby bed and rousing Dean from a deep sleep.

“Ungh,” he grunted, annoyed he hadn’t thought to close the curtains the night before. “Too early.”

Next to him he heard a throaty chuckle, and he flipped on to his side to see Castiel sitting up in bed, raven hair mussed from sleep, and the most adorable horned rimmed glasses on his nose. Obviously, the other man had been up for some time.

“You know it’s kinda creepy knowing you watch me sleep, dude,” Dean said, a light rosy hue appearing on his cheeks. He secretly loved that Castiel kept watch while he slept. His mother always said that angels were watching over him, and while the other man might not be an angel in the true celestial meaning of the term, he indubitably was Dean’s angel.

“Aww, Deanie-bear’s grumpy because he didn’t get enough sleep,” Castiel mocked, removing his glasses and setting them on the nightstand.

“You are such an asshole,” Dean countered trying for a grumpy countenance, but failing as a joyful chuckle escaped, as he leaned up to get the first kiss of the morning.

“True,” Castiel said, rubbing his nose lightly against the other man’s, and running a finger along the cinnamon flecked freckles sprinkled along Dean’s nose.

“You are so weird to have a kink about my freckles,” Dean laughed good-naturedly.

“They are adorable,” came the expected reply.

“So what are the plans for today?” Dean asked, raising his hands above his head and indulging in a long, delicious stretch to work out some of the knots in his back.

“Hmmm,” Castiel said thoughtfully, taking advantage of Dean’s position to roll on top of the taller man. “I’m thinking for today, it might be a good day to catch up on some sleep and enjoy the view with my new husband.”

Dean grinned, the wide, vibrant smile that made his eyes look like jade and brought out the deep crinkles beside them, that smile still was enough to take Castiel’s breath away.

“You don’t want to get up and explore, Mr. Novak-Winchester?” Dean asked, batting his lashes at the older man.

“We have plenty of time,” Castiel practically purred, pressing biting kisses along Dean’s jaw and throat. “I think you still need to catch up on your rest.”

The young Winchester looked at his husband, the man he knew he was going to love for the rest of his life. To think that just two weeks before, Dean had been in the hospital because of exhaustion because the separation from Castiel had worn him down and brought all his self-doubts back to the fore. Now, they were married, and ready to take on whatever the future might have.

Dean was married. That was such a difficult concept for the green-eyed man to wrap his head around. Not only was he married, but had done so with the quirky, dorky, and drop dead gorgeous man at his side. Thinking back over the last two weeks, Dean marvelled at how much his life had changed, and all for the best.

*****

After Castiel and Dean had ironed out their frustrations. Or more accurately, Castiel vented at Dean’s complete lack of self-preservation and Dean just took it like a recalcitrant schoolboy, because he had messed up and he would own that. However, once Dean was discharged, Castiel went from irate boyfriend to overprotective mother hen in the space of two seconds.

Anytime Dean shifted wrong and grimaced, he was greeted with Castiel’s harried visage swooping into his personal space and asking if they needed to go back to the hospital, or thrusting pain pills his way. Ordinarily the young Winchester would be ready to tell his boyfriend where to shove it, but he had to admit it felt a little nice to let himself be pampered; and, he knew that Castiel needed to look after him for the moment, just to assure himself that Dean was safe and well. It was a small price to pay.

What Dean didn’t know was that not only had his overprotective boyfriend called Charlie on his frantic journey home from Florida, he had placed an emergency call to Dean’s brother, Sam, as well, which is how Dean found himself sleepily opening the door the afternoon after he came home from the hospital to six-feet-four of seriously concerned and pissed off brother who scooped him into a bear hug, only to immediately let go for fear of causing more injury to his brother.

Sam had worked to get some emergency time off from his classes to go home to make sure that Dean was okay. The youngest Winchester and Castiel had always been good friends, and the two of them united in their efforts to care for Dean, damn near stifled the older Winchester. On the morning of the third day of Sam’s visit the Dean had finally had enough.

“Sam, dude, I love you, but you have to go back,” Dean said, tone exasperated and weary. He still had twinges of pain from his ribs, but he was trying to lay off the pain medication unless absolutely necessary.

The older brother regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth as he was met with the full force of Sam Winchester’s patented puppy dog eyes.

“What? Why? Don’t you want me to be at your wedding?”

Dean was in the process of swallowing an ill-timed sip of coffee, which he promptly spit out all over the table (and himself), and started choking.

Hearing the ruckus in the kitchen, Castiel came from the bedroom where he had been folding laundry at a dead run. He repeatedly hit Dean on the back until the Winchester stopped coughing and was just mildly wheezing.

“What happened?” Castiel asked; he hadn’t wanted to leave Dean alone, but figured he was safe with Sam, but this coughing fit put his anxiety back into hyperdrive.

“We were just talking,” Sam said, looking as bewildered as the blue-eyed Novak. “Dean told me he thought it was time for me to go back home, and I asked if he didn’t want me to stay for the wedding and then he started choking.”

Taking deep breaths to restore oxygen to his lungs and swiping his palms over the tears spilling down his cheeks from the lack of air, Dean was still trying to wrap his head around what was going on...it was like the whole world had suddenly gone topsy-turvy.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, sitting down next to his lover and gently taking his hand. “What’s the matter? I would have thought you would have wanted to have your brother at our wedding?”

It took every ounce of self-restraint for Dean not to reach out and pinch himself. There was also an effort for him not to look around for hidden cameras, or to think that maybe he never woke up from when he fell down the stairs. 

“Um, Cas, what wedding?” Dean asked, brain whirring and trying to figure out where he lost the plot.

From the twin looks of confusion from the other two men, Dean was sure he had missed something.

“We are getting married,” Castiel said, slowly and with the infinite patience of someone explaining something to a small child.

“Since when?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, not missing a beat.

A fleeting look of hurt crossed over Castiel’s handsome face, and Dean fought the urge to wince: He didn’t want to hurt Castiel more than he knew he already had, but there was something that just didn’t add up.

“Dean” Castiel questioned carefully, “are you sure you are feeling okay? Your head isn’t hurting you more than before?”

Shaking his head to indicate he was fine, Dean just stared at his boyfriend.

“Don’t you remember?” Castiel asked, voice now colored with hurt. “I asked you to marry me in the hospital.”

“You asked me, Cas, but I am pretty sure I passed back out not that long after.”

“Oh,” the other man said, releasing his hold on Dean’s hand and getting up from the chair where he was seated and leaving the room.

“Dude, what the hell?” Sam hissed, angry at his brother. “Why would you act like that?”   
“Act like what, Sammy?” Dean said, honestly bewildered. He really felt like he had stepped into  _ The Twilight Zone _ .

“You really hurt his feelings.”

“But I don’t know what’s going on,” Dean would later deny that he whined, but he totally did.

Sam sighed in frustration and ran his hands through his overly long hair, mumbling something about being surrounded by idiots.

“You’ve got to fix this,” Sam said, jaw set in anger.

“But I didn’t do anything?” Dean countered, only to be met by Sam’s bitchface number ten, which was ‘seriously Dean?’

Knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his overgrown little brother, Dean hauled himself to his feet and went off in the direction where Castiel had disappeared moments prior.

He walked into their bedroom and saw the heartbreaking sight of Castiel huddled in a ball in the middle of their bed, curled in around himself, as though trying to protect himself. The sight broke Dean’s heart, and he made a beeline for the bed and climbed in beside his lover, leaving a small space between them. Dean wanted to reach out to his boyfriend, but feared the contact would not be welcomed at this point.

“I didn’t know you didn’t mean it,” Castiel said, obviously trying to fight back the tears. “I thought you were happy to marry me.”

“Baby, I am a little fuzzy here, I don’t want to hurt you, I swear I don’t, but I don’t know what is going on,” Dean said, tone gentle.

“I asked you to marry me,” Castiel reiterated, the first salty tear slipping down his face.

“I vaguely remember you saying that, but I was a little doped up at the moment, I don’t really remember it that well.” And that was the wrong thing to say, Dean could see it immediately.

“Ah, yes,” Castiel said, trying to roll away from Dean to leave the bed. Dean wasn’t going to let that happen. He might not have a memory of what Castiel was talking about, but that’s not to say he didn’t want it.

“Ask me again,” Dean breathed out.

Castiel shook his head no, his body rigid with tension and eyes shut in pain.

“Baby, ask me again,” Dean commanded softly.

“Dean Winchester will you marry me?” Castiel said, so quiet Dean wouldn’t have heard it if they hadn’t been so close to one another.

“Yes, my love, I will marry you,” Dean said, brilliant grin on his face. “I want nothing more than to spend every moment of the rest of my life at your side.”

The older man’s eyes flew open, blazing with fire and anger. “Don’t you fuck with me,” he spat out, afraid that Dean was mocking him when he was in such a vulnerable position.

Dean scooted closer to his boyfriend, ignoring the flash of pain in his side at the awkward movement. “Cas, baby, I wasn’t in my right mind at the hospital, I honestly don’t remember responding to you; and, I really didn’t think you were serious. I mean you are you and you are awesome, so it is hard for me to accept that you would want to be married to someone like me.” Castiel looked like he wanted to contradict Dean’s self-assessment, but Dean continued speaking. “But, if you are sure this is what you want. You are sure that you want a lifetime with me, then I sure as fuck want a future with you; you are the love of my life and I would be a fool to let you go.”

The raven-haired man laid perfectly still, letting Dean’s words wash over him like a gentle wave, and felt the genuine love and affection behind them. Rolling over quickly, Castiel was off the bed before Dean was able to move. 

“Cas?” Dean questioned, wondering if Castiel was going to leave him, and trying to make his way off the bed to pursue the other man.

Dean no sooner was sitting on the edge of the bed when Castiel came back to his side, holding something in his hand.

“You deserve for this to be done right,” Castiel said, tears dried from his face, although his eyes were still brighter than usual and slightly red-rimmed. Getting down on one knee, he gently took Dean’s hands in his once again.

“Dean Winchester, love of my life, you scared the ever loving shit out of me,” Castiel said, causing a startled chuckle from the green-eyed man in front of him. “But, you also made me realize that I never want to be apart from you for another night. You may drive me crazy at times, as I’m sure I must do for you as well, but you are the one that I want to wake up with each morning; the last thing I want to see each night. I want to cook with you, travel with you, live with you, fight with you, and love you with every breath in my body for every minute of my life. So, my love, will you do me the very big honor of marrying me?”

“Yes,” Dean said, tears of his own sliding down his face. “Without a doubt yes.”

The two men launched themselves at each other and kissed enthusiastically to celebrate their new engagement. Just as Castiel was levering himself over Dean to make a more profound celebration, they heard a rapid pounding on their door.

“I’m happy for you guys that your finally got your heads out of your asses, but can you wait until I’m out of the apartment before you start having celebratory sex. I don’t want to be scarred for life,” Sam yelled from the other side of the door.

“You better get a move on then, Sam,” Dean yelled back, wide grin splitting his face as he looked up at a mildly embarrassed Castiel, “because I don’t know if I can hold Cas back from ravaging my ass.”

“Gross, dude, there are just things I don’t want to know,” Sam snarked back as he retreated. “Congratulations guys, I really mean it.”

It was only a few days later that Castiel and Dean got married, with Sam and Charlie as their witnesses. The pair could have waited a little longer and have had a bigger ceremony, but now that they had made the leap, they didn’t want to wait.

*****

Which is how Dean found himself lying in a hotel bed in New York City on his honeymoon with his new husband. Looking down at their matching silver bands that glinted in the sunlight, Dean smiled at the quirks of fate that led him to his ultimate happiness.

“Dean, are you in pain?” Castiel said, voice colored with worry. He obviously had been looking for an answer to a previous question and not getting an answer thought there was a problem. The green-eyed man shook himself from his pleasant thoughts and gave his husband a cocky grin.

“No, honeybee, I’m good,” Dean replied, leaning over and starting to place love bites on his new husband’s neck.

“I was just asking if you were ready to get up or if you wanted to get some more rest,” Castiel said, sounding somewhat breathless from the attention he was receiving from his new husband. “Let’s see what the city has in store for us,” Dean said, pulling away with a last kiss to his husband’s lips. “At this point, why waste time sleeping when being awake is so much better than any dream.”

Yep, Dean Winchester’s life had officially become something straight out of a romance novel, but he was surprisingly okay with that, because he was able to live out his wildest dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming along on this journey with me. I will say that I had a completely different epilogue written for this story, but after reading all your comments and your thoughts and hopes for the ending, I realized it wasn't going to meet expectations, so I went back and rewrote it to provide something that I think it much more satisfying. Please let me know what you thought. I appreciate y'all reading. All my best <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a work in progress. It is fully written (shocker for me, I know). I will post an update each day. Please let me know what you think. I am rather pleased with this, even though it is not what I started out with. I love you all and appreciate all the kudos and comments, they mean the world to me.


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